


Stop.

by malu (orphan_account)



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 10:32:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3131333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/malu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It’s no different tonight and yes, Fernando thinks to himself, they really need to stop this. Because until now, there’s mostly been a natural distance between them, geography coming to their help, keeping them divided neatly by having them roam in different countries for the majority of time. That’s over now and Fernando has no idea, no plan, no strategy to stay away from Sergio when they’re now in the same city. All the time.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at football, so bear with me while I'm still learning ;)
> 
> Obviously, only playing and just a product of my dirty mind. No harm intended!
> 
> If you like it, pleeease let me know ♥ There might be more :)

“We can’t-“ he trails off, his hands betraying his words, sliding under the younger man’s shirt, his fingers tracing over the other’s spine.

”I know, we have to stop.” He hears the breathless reply, hissed straight to his ear, but Sergio doesn’t back away, only presses him closer against the wall, his thigh pressing between Fernando’s legs determinedly.

Fernando bites the inside of his cheek, desperately trying to suppress the moan that wants to come out of his throat, his nails now in the younger man’s shoulder blades. They can’t because they have families. Wives or girlfriends. And children. Waiting for them at home. And he remembers the countless occasions where they promised each other they’d stop, where they agreed that it was wrong. But whatever this thing between them is, it’s stronger than them, it keeps pulling them towards each other, reeling each other in with unknown force, until they crash, secretly, usually in cheap hotels, lips meeting with despair, teeth clicking violently, the taste of blood all too present in their kisses. It’s no different tonight and yes, Fernando thinks to himself, they really need to stop this. Because until now, there’s mostly been a natural distance between them, geography coming to their help, keeping them divided neatly by having them roam in different countries for the majority of time. That’s over now and Fernando has no idea, no plan, no strategy to stay away from Sergio when they’re now in the same city. All the time. 

”Yeah, we should really-“ And this time, Sergio doesn’t let him finish, kissing him instead, devouring him, weeks of separation taking their toll once again.

With their bodies flush against each other, he can feel everything he needed so badly, the vibrations of Sergio’s rapidly beating heart, the hardness in the defender’s jeans, giving away just how easily he’s impressed whenever Fernando is close, the irregular heaving of his chest. With a small moan, one he didn’t try to hide this time, Fernando leans his head back against the wall, exposing his neck for his lover who, after years of secret encounters, reads the unspoken signal, lips moving down the striker’s jaw, tongue leaving a wet strip behind. His kisses are soft, more licking than sucking, both of them practiced and aware of the fact that there must not be any traces or marks from their actions and that’s the one rule they always manage to adhere to, even if all else gets blurred by the unbearable desire clouding their brains.

Fernando moans approvingly, while Sergio unbuttons his shirt, tongue travelling lower and lower, fingers long hooked under the waistband of his jeans. A growl escapes his lips when the fly of his jeans is yanked down and he cannot keep his hips from bucking forward, searching for friction. The exact knowledge of what is about to happen next is taking his breath away already, makes him painfully hard just from imagining it and when soft lips close around his tip, he’s helplessly clutching to Sergio’s hair, panting and moaning with despair. It’s always a challenge to not thrust into the hot wetness, to keep himself from choking his companion and he is thankful for the grip on his hips, keeping him steadied against the wall, while Sergio licks a teasing line along his shaft before finally swallowing him down whole, making the older striker’s vision go white hot, mind spaced out into a world of pleasure already. He never really figured out whether Sergio is just extremely skilled or he is always extremely desperate during their encounters, but Fernando never manages to last long and this night is no different from all the others before. Way quicker than he’d want to, he feels the familiar warmth pool in his lap and yanks on the other’s hair, pulling his head back.

”You need to stop…” he pants, looking down at Sergio, mesmerized by the flushed cheeks, swollen lips and the eyes that have gone black with need and lust. “Or else I’ll come already.” It’s because he’s so beautiful, Fernando thinks, his eyes still on Sergio’s face, his gaze lost in a string of saliva that connects his cock with Sergio’s lips and the thought alone makes him twitch again. 

”Turn,” he hears the familiar growl, pressed out between heavy breathing, while the defender scrambles to his feet. Maybe it’s nothing anyone would expect, but between them, it’s long established and Fernando doesn’t hesitate to press his forehead against the wall, taking some deep breaths and listening to the sounds behind him, tell-tale sounds of the other shoving his pants down. He shudders involuntarily when Sergio’s hands start exploring his back, tracing lines up and down his spine and occasionally cupping his ass. The soft touches, that during some nights he craves more than anything else in this world, are far from enough now and it’s not long before he whines, “Please, Sese, now.”

”God, Nando, you are so beautiful,” Sergio practically purrs, making the striker tremble and then Sergio lips are against his neck again, littering it with little licks and Fernando feels Sergio’s hand fidget with the tube, hears the thud when it falls to the ground and a brief memory from the first time they’ve done it flashes up in his head, his surprise at the coolness, his fear, the burning shame about what he was doing, with a man and then the pain, the feeling of being torn into pieces and through it all, Sergio’s unusually soft voices, whispering into his ear, comforting him. He’d been shocked when a weak “I love you” had come out between the other endearments and they hadn’t spoken about it, but it kept happening over their next encounters and eventually, Fernando said it back. The delicious burn of a finger entering him draws him back to the present and with a low moan, he pushes his hips back, meeting Sergio’s tentative thrusts, urging for more. Sergio, as always, complies all too willingly, adding one and then another finger, spreading him open roughly while, as always, whispering into his ear. “I love you, Nando. I love you so much. God, you have no idea.”

In reality though, Fernando manages to think, he knows quite well, because he feels just the same and Sergio is aware of that, he is sure. He winces and whines when the fingers are withdrawn and then takes in a sharp breath, bracing himself. He cries out when the younger man buries himself with a single push, hands running through Fernando’s hair, hot breath in Fernando’s neck and the pain leaves as quickly as it came, allowing him to move his hips against Sergio’s, wordlessly giving the signal for more. Which he receives, always more and more and more, Sergio skilled enough to find his prostate within a few attempts and then relentlessly aiming for the same spot over and over again until Fernando is a broken, whiny mess in his hold, squirming, groaning and finally, begging. 

”Sese, let me come, please.” His chest is pressed even harder against the rough wall, Sergio picking up a violent pace and rhythm now and then Fernando’s world explodes into stars and fireworks when he comes over Sergio’s hands the second the other touches his cock. He cries out his name and even under the haze of the orgasm that’s washing over him, he can hear his own name echoing through the room, too, Sergio following him over the edge immediately. And for a few precious, blissful minutes, the world around them is forgotten, locked out, while there’s only them, floating on their afterglow, Fernando facing Sergio again now, hands clinging to his friend’s neck, their foreheads touching, only separated by a thin layer of sweat and their chests flush against each other. It’s the best feeling in Fernando’s world, but it always ends too quickly, when they become increasingly aware of the sticky mess between them, when the cool blow of the air condition makes them shiver.

It’s then that Fernando takes Sergio’s hand, lacing their fingers and starts pulling him towards the shower.

”We really need to stop,” he mumbles, his head on the younger player’s shoulder.

”I know, Nando, I know.”

And both of them know that won’t happen, the question is never if they meet again, it’s always just how. With them playing in the same city now, Fernando has no doubt that the strange magnetic force between them will not hesitate to pull them back together. Soon.


End file.
